Game Night
by Every Shade of Blue
Summary: One night, President Bartlet decides that the senior staff is going to play a game of Monopoly with him. Not surprisingly, it doesn't go over well. As usual, shenanigans ensue.
This was inspired by a tumblr post I reblogged that led me to the highly entertaining idea of Bartlet forcing the senior staff to play Monopoly with him. It was requested that I write it, so I figured I might as well post it here as well. Enjoy!

* * *

"This is a terrible idea."

"I think all of us already know that."

"Aren't we supposed to be - you know - really, really smart? Remind me again how we let ourselves get talked into this?"

"He's the President, Josh; it wasn't so much _talked_ into as _ordered_ into."

"And we're absolutely sure the whole 'kill him and dump his body in a national park' thing isn't an option?"

" _Josh..._ "

"What?"

"I hope you're discussing economic strategies and their potential applications to structured gameplay, because if not, I'm going to have to ask you all to shut up."

The four members of the senior staff hastily jumped to their feet at the President's entrance, eyeing the box in his hands warily. As he put it down on the table and set about removing the contents, Josh took a subtle step toward CJ, leaning behind Sam so he was out of the President's line of sight.

"Where's Leo?"

"Gone," CJ answered as quietly as possible.

" _Gone?_ " Josh hissed.

CJ nodded grimly. "He was out of here like a shot the second the President so much as thought the word - "

"Monopoly!" Bartlet proclaimed proudly, revealing the board that was now laid out on the table in front of them. "Did you know…" He looked around at them all sternly, ensuring that they were paying close attention. "Did you know that the very earliest versions of Monopoly can be traced all the way back to 1903?"

"Yes, sir," Sam answered promptly. "It was originally created to explain the single tax theory of the political economist Henry George and to illustrate the negative aspects of concentrating land in private... monopolies…" He trailed off, fidgeting nervously at the look on the President's face. "You, um… you wanted to answer your own question again, didn't you, sir?"

"I did," the President confirmed dryly. "Just for that, you can be the shoe."

Under the President's unwavering stare, Sam dropped into a seat and sheepishly accepted the proffered game piece. "Yes, sir."

"I call the racecar," Josh said quickly, taking the seat next to Sam.

"Dog," CJ requested, taking the next seat.

"Toby?" Bartlet asked.

Toby sighed and took the last seat. "I really couldn't care less, sir."

"Battleship it is, then," Bartlet said, placing the token with the others on the space marked 'Start.' "And I'll be…" He glanced at the remaining pieces, then at the ones that were already on the board. "...the car."

"But - "

"I'm going to stop you right there, Joshua, because I really think this is something you should think long and hard over. Do you really want to start a game of Monopoly by arguing with the Commander-in-Chief of the United States of America over who gets to be the car?"

"I'll be the wheelbarrow," Josh said resignedly.

"Good man."

Ignoring them in favor of perusing the rule booklet, Toby asked, "Who's going to be the banker?"

Bartlet raised an eyebrow. "As far as I can recall, only one of us here is a Nobel Laureate in economics." He glanced around at them all as if daring them to contradict him.

"Fantastic," Toby muttered drily.

"There's no way this is a good idea," Josh added under his breath.

"Something to say, Josh?" the President asked sharply.

"No, sir," Josh answered hastily. "I was just, uh... just saying something to Sam about the economic theories of... um... George Henry?"

"Henry George," Sam corrected him.

"Right... him."

"Of course you were," Bartlet said, thoroughly unconvinced.

"Should we roll to see who goes first?" Toby interrupted impatiently.

"I'll save you the trouble," Bartlet answered. He grabbed the dice, rolled, and moved his token.

"Can he do that?" Josh muttered.

"He's the President, Joshua," CJ replied dryly.

Josh sighed. "This is going to be a long night."

* * *

 _One Hour Later_

"Er, Mr. President?"

"Yes, Toby?"

"Aren't we supposed to get $200 for passing go?"

Bartlet raised an eyebrow. "You corrected me about the rules regarding the Income Tax. You get $100."

Toby looked like he wanted to argue, but for the sake of not prolonging the game, he thought better of it. "Yes, sir."

* * *

 _One More Hour Later_

CJ leaned over and gave Josh a quick slap across the back of the head for the fourth time.

" _Ow!_ " He glared at her.

"Be good," she chided.

Sam looked at the two curiously, failing for the fourth time in a row to notice that one of his properties was missing. "Why do you keep hitting Josh?"

CJ just shook her head. "Oh, Sam."

* * *

 _One Hour After That_

CJ watched Toby and the President tiredly as they stared each other down, Toby tossing the dice and quickly moving his token.

"Ha!" the President yelled triumphantly. "Pay up, Ziegler!"

Toby counted out the money due, glaring back at him. "Just you wait till the next time you land on Pennsylvania Avenue, old man. Just you wait."

CJ sighed exasperatedly, her eyelids drooping as she began to nod off. Josh and Sam were already asleep, Josh's head against CJ's shoulder and Sam's head against Josh's. She wondered if the President would notice - or indeed care - if she followed suit.

* * *

 _And One More Hour After That_

Bartlet glanced briefly at the three sleeping staffers across the table. "Which one of them is snoring?"

Toby didn't even look up. "CJ."

"She snore a lot?"

"More than you'd think. Roll."

* * *

 _The Next Morning_

"Sam!"

Sam glanced up from his work curiously. "Josh?"

"I'd clear out of here ASAP if I were you."

Sam frowned, leaning back from his desk and taking his glasses off. "Why?"

"Toby won the game last night."

"Did he?"

Josh grinned in relief. "Oh, thank God… you were asleep, too?"

"I, uh, might have been, yeah," Sam admitted sheepishly. He got up and peered through the window between his office and the next. "Where is Toby, anyway?"

"Halfway home already if he knows what's good for him," Josh answered grimly. "The President's out looking for a rematch."

Sam had just opened his mouth to reply when they were interrupted by voices approaching the Communications bullpen - one of which was unmistakably the President's. Josh immediately grabbed Sam's arm, hauling him out of the office. "Time to go!"

They were halfway out of the building before Sam realized he'd forgotten his coat. When he suggested going back for it, Josh looked at him as if he'd grown a second head. "It's too late, Sam. Forget the coat. It's a lost cause... behind enemy lines... captured by the enemy! Your coat is now a prisoner of war."

Sam rolled his eyes. "I think you might be exaggerating just a little."

"Look at it this way, Sam," Josh said seriously. "You can go home and eat dinner and get some sleep tonight… or you can stay here and listen to President Professor Bartlet monologue on the practical economic applications of the game of Monopoly. _Again_." He shook his head. "You can do that if you want, but you're on your own, buddy." Then, glancing over his shoulder to make sure the President hadn't found them, he quickly turned and left.

Sam briefly wondered how cold it was outside. Josh was right, he decided. The coat wasn't worth it. "Josh, wait up!"

* * *

President Bartlet inspected Sam's office, frowning. Like the three offices he had visited previously, the light had been off when he arrived - but Sam's coat hung on the rack by the door, and the cup of coffee sitting next to Sam's computer was still warm.

"He left in a hurry."

Leaning against the doorframe with his arms crossed, Leo rolled his eyes. "Your investigatory skills never cease to amaze me, Mr. President."

Bartlet ignored him. "I just find it interesting how quickly the staff seem to have disappeared, is all."

Leo shook his head. "You didn't really think you'd be able to get them to play Monopoly with you again, did you?"

Bartlet shrugged. "It was worth a shot. Anyway," he smiled slyly, "just wait till next weekend when I make them play Scrabble."


End file.
